Illianya Ch. 02: Cleanup & Lecture

Illianya made her way down the plasta-steel hallway, bouncing like a pinball between the flood of students. She looked down at her watch. "Shit, almost 15 past," Illianya sighed, adjusting her shirt; Trevor's cum had dried and was causing her shirt to stick to her stomach. She could feel it flaking underneath her breasts where it had seeped through her cleavage and dripped down along the crest of her ribs. Gross. But also... mouth-watering.

She felt a pang of regret. Not only from the discomfort she was feeling, but also that at what she had done. Had she done something wrong? Sure, she liked Trevor, but like that? She didn't really want to risk damaging their friendship just because she had had a lapse of judgement. The train ride had been a combination of things that had overridden her rational thought. "I was sexually pent-up, Trevor had been adorably vulnerable, claustrophobically close, and I'm definitely sleep deprived. I saw an opportunity and took it, thinking only of how I could use him," Illianya growled at herself.

The pressure on her disconnected hand kept shifting-Trevor had probably broken free of the crowd and was booking it to Mr. S's class. The feeling of dried spunk was present on her hand as well. She felt her palm being jostled against his shaft, her fingernails lightly tapping against his flaccid member. Trevor's member twitched as her nails tapped against his sensitive head. Her face flushed beet red as she realized that her hand was probably causing his pants to bulge noticeably.

Not wanting to cause him any more discomfort she focused on repositioning the detached limb. Trevor winced and twinged in discomfort as she pulled her hand out from in front of his crotch. It was quite difficult considering the motion and the confined space, multitasking both walking with the crowd and not getting knocked to the ground as well as moving her hand in his pants, but it was surprisingly easy.

She chuckled, she hadn't expected the years of working in the confined space of her Papa's ship to prepare her for this. She settled with cupping his testicles and settling her wrist underneath his taint. It would be uncomfortable when he sat, but it was good for now.

Focusing back on making her way through the densely packed corridor, she pushed through a pack of pale-skinned girls that had grouped obnoxiously in the center of the hall. One of the girls, a demonic looking chick with a single black horn protruding from her forehead and pure-black eyes, shouted an insult at Illianya that caused the group to break out cackling. Illianya grumbled in frustration, cursing her terrible route choice; in her daze she had ridden the current of the crowd, letting it carry her into the central corridor.

The UGC central corridor, or more commonly known as the CC, ran the entire length of the massive university complex. Starting from the Facility Hub, it was an un-broken loop that connected each department campus and living areas together.

The Commerce section of the loop was always obnoxiously busy; some idiot had had the smart idea of installing student lockers along the section. Rows of banged-up, metallic green digital-lockpad lockers went as far as the eye could see. Large, slanted, triple thick, insulated window panes let the cool ice-blue light bathe the building's interior. The Commerce department had also further complicated their section of the loop by extending the width of the passage, adding green-spaces that ran alongside the windows, with benches and seating arrangements.

A good place to hang and chill with friends during breaks, or to appreciate the scenic vista of the tundra hell-scape, as you leisurely stroll from department to department. Terrible for getting anywhere fast.

Illianya was trying to make her way through the remaining crowded space that wasn't taken up by the conveyor-walkway—although she would've liked to rest and let herself be carried to her destination, it was still faster to worm through the crowd. If she hadn't been in daze, she would've slipped off into a side-hall. Illianya preferred to pass through the upper-levels, cutting through the quiet administration areas and late-year lecture halls that weren't nearly as busy as the CC.

"Fuck, I forgot how horrible CC is. I can't even see past anyone's shoulders," she thought, cursing her stunted height. Illianya hopped up on her tiptoes, bouncing above the ocean of heads and attempted to get her bearings. Her heart sank as she realized she wasn't as far as she had thought-barely halfway. However, a beam of hope shone as she bounced up again. She spotted a sign for the washrooms, one that she knew exited into a relatively quieter corridor.

"I'm already late, might as well stop and refresh myself'," Illianya thought. Mr. Stephenson's lecture was just under 3 hours long; she really didn't want Trevor's musk hanging off of her that entire time. The smell of densely pressed bodies in the corridor at least masked it, but she was pretty sure anyone sitting near her would catch a whiff of the post-sex aftermath.

Veering out of foot traffic and hugging the pale green lockers, she pulled into the nearest restroom, apologizing as she narrowly avoided slamming into a tall dark-skinned male that was just exiting`. Peeking in and around the L-bend of the washroom, she was relieved to see the stall-doors wide open and empty.

"Stroke of luck, must've just missed the pre-class crowd'". She rushed to the farthest sink from the busy hallway. With a flick of her hand, she swiped her card against the dispenser and grabbed the paper towels that shot out. As she waved the tap on, she noticed the jostling of her hand subside and, shortly after, Trevor started to shift his weight between each leg uncomfortably.

"Hopefully by the time I'm done, Mr. Stephenson will have tired himself out yelling at Trevor,'" she sighed as she dampened the towels. Unzipping her jacket Illianya pictured the situation. Mr. Stephenson's massive projected face spitting words laced with venom at Trevor.

A twinge of guilt at the thought made her pause. Suddenly, there was a loud bang and whir as the washroom door burst open, causing her to jump in surprise. Bumping the faucet off with her arm and grasping the towels in a clenched fist, she barreled into the privacy of a stall.

Illianya locked the pearl-white plasta-steel door behind her. Holding her breath, she listened to the muffled sounds of the new arrivals. A group of girls were gossiping just outside. The paranoia subsided as Illianya realized the girls were distracted in conversation.

Slowly, desperately trying to make as little noise as possible, she peeled the dress-shirt from her belly. Trevor's drying fluids were strikingly white against her supple, pale-brown skin. "Well, guess I'll see if it's as good a moisturizer as April says it is,'" Illianya giggled quietly.

Slowly wiping underneath the curves of her breasts and tracing the lines of her abs, Illianya delicately purged the contrasting flakes from her form. As she re-positioned her breasts to properly clean between the cleavage, a small white glob seeped out, slowly trailing down her ribs. A wave of heat.

Hand shaking, she snatched it with two fingers and caught the glob before it sank into her leggings. Eyeing her catch hungrily she unconsciously licked her lips.

She raised it to her mouth and savored his flavor, lapping up the cum with her tongue. Her eyes rolled upward, fluttering, and her knees buckled. Stretching an arm out, she braced herself against the wall of the stall, barely managing to stay upright.

The smell. The taste. She'd heard that it tasted salty, but there was something so much more to it. Something within her hungered not only for the flavor, but for what it was. "Why is it so intoxicatingly strong? Why is his cum so fucking goooood?"

Suddenly, AsteroidRick12's voice penetrated her mind. His moans loud and vivid in her ears. In the dimly lit stall she could only hear him, the squealing girls drowned out by his deep, gravely tones. She felt his warmth encompass her. Illianya lying below him, his thick muscular arms holding her in a strong embrace. One arm fell from her shoulders and he began to caress her mound, his thumb circling her nub.

"Oh, yes. Fuuuuck yes," she whispered. Opening her eyes, wasn't surprised to see Trevor's hazel eyes staring back at her.

As he spoke, she heard the harsh tones of AsteroidRick12, but the body was that of her friend. He slid down along her body, hands tenderly teasing her breasts. Leaning close, he softly kissed along the inside of her thigh. Her own hands dragged along her leggings, mimicking his actions. She moaned loudly as a deluge of pleasure overwhelmed her.

And immediately snapped her eyes open to reality as she remembered where she was. Quiet. Her mind shifted into overdrive as she panicked. Time seemed to stop, thoughts racing. "There were other girls in here right? I heard them come in, did they hear me? was I loud, maybe they didn't hear me." Her face flushed for the thousandth time that morning. In hushed tones she heard one of the girls whisper something. Illianya winced, the answer to her question painfully obvious.

Illianya groaned loudly, attempting to convince the girls otherwise. She followed it up by throwing the used towels into the toilet, causing a resounding plop. The muffled sounds of giggling erupted outside and whatever conversation they were having, resumed.

With a strained exhale, she buried her face in her hand, hiding from her own shame. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she pulled a small stick of deodorant from her satchel and sparingly applied it over her cleaned skin.

Exhaling another breath, she tried to settle her thoughts. "Get it together. You can get through the day without sex... well, at least without more. This isn't reasonable."

Scolding her bizarrely active libido, Illianya finished cleaning up, making sure to flush all traces of her activities. Slamming the lid down she plopped onto the toilet seat. Illianya quickly patted down her clothes with one arm and one hand, visually checking that everything looked appropriate. No questionable stains on the jacket or cardigan, check. No un-dried spots on the shirt, check. Everything clean on her chest, check. No traces of it on her leggings or shoes, check.

Strolling out of the stall she was annoyed to see the girls still hovering by the sinks, giggling away. "They sound like the chittering vermin in the rig's venting. Weasley six-tailed hairballs always managed to sneak onto the ship after each docking," she thought, remembering the horrid little creatures and the countless chewed wiring she'd had to replace.

"Annoying, always bickering, squeaky, loud, so fake, ugh." Illianya averted her eyes as one glanced over at her. She could hear them snickering about her. Some hushed remark about pigs or some-other.

"Guess that's better than the alternative," Illianya reasoned. She hurriedly rushed through the motions of washing (making sure to hide the trail of mist emitting from her missing appendage) and, paranoid, scanned herself in the mirror. Everything looked fine. Straightening up she flicked her hands to dry them off, not wanting to waste any time using the dryer.

She froze. A large wet spot was alarmingly visibly on her crotch-The leggings might fade up into sky blue, but this was a black hole in space. Coincidentally, her leggings were also being pulled in; she had a horribly case of camel-toe. "Dammmmmmit!" she shouted internally. "I forgot to slip on panties this morning. Fuck. I really shouldn't be wearing these without something underneath".

Illianya panicked and fumbled one-handed with her jacket zipper, relieved that her jacket hung past her hips-no way was she going to pick it in front of those leeches. Jogging out of the rear doorway, she thrust her arms into her pockets and attempted to free the fabric discretely as she made her way to class.

Thankfully, there was space to zig and zag through people, and she made good time. Passing a large antique clock, which sported a large plaque thanking the corporation that had donated it to the Commerce department, she was relieved to see it was only 22-past. She had been worried her distraction had taken much longer.

Slowing down as she reached the lecture hall door, Illianya paused to catch her breath. After one final attempt to alleviate her moose-knuckle (to no avail, she was sopping wet and feared she had only made it worse), Illianya pulled out her ID card and swiped it in front of the scanner.

***

With a soft whoosh and hiss of hydraulics, the set of giant metal double-doors slid out of the way. She was greeted by the hoarse wheeze of Mr. Stephenson's voice, booming out of the auditorium speakers, talking about the dangers of corporate collaborations allowed to operate unrestrained.

The lecture hall was massive, yet it was relatively small compared to the other department rooms. It was three stories tall and could easily seat 2000 students. Built in a semicircle with each row staggered behind the other, everyone could easily see the stage.

The stage was a walkway of mahogany wood encircled a large metallic device. From the large sphere, rays of light shone out from its top and created the image of her professor's face in the large space above the stage, excess light painting the room in a soft glow of shifting colors.

The massive hologram projectors were the focal piece of most lecture halls. Professors often used it to supersize themselves so students in the nosebleeds could still see, but it was able to display any image in the space above the stage.

Sheepishly, she slid into the hall and clung to the shadows, climbing the staircase to her section, the fabric caught in her vagina teasing her lips with every step. Thankfully it seemed as if the prof was either too deep into the topic to call her out or had tired himself out raging at Trevor.

She climbed up to the 13th row and crept halfway through to her chair, keeping her arm hidden in her jacket pocket. Nimbly she stepped over knapsacks and tablet bags, managing not to trip over the slew of student belongings. Sharol, sitting in her usual spot beside Illianya's, greeted Illianya with a quick nod. Illianya whispered hello, slung her satchel over the back of the chair and rotated it from underneath the desk.

The chair betrayed her. It sounded like it had popped a bearing, making a horrible grinding noise as she spun it around. Hanging her head and apologizing to no one in particular, she slumped into the cushioned swivel seat and swiveled it back around, the sound echoing through the room.

The holographic projection of Mr. Stephenson's gaunt face, hovering in the air, scowled at her, the eerie blue tint and supersized features making him all that more frightening.

His wrinkled face was pocked with blots that marked his age. His hair had all but wilted away and his eyes were retreating like turtles into their shells. Large spectacles rest on his crooked nose, the rims bending and shifting as he looked from his notes to his students-one of those flexible focal-lenses that changed prescription based on viewing distance. Mr. Stephensen uttered a disapproving "tsk" and continued with the lesson.

Popping her satchel open, she slid out the datapad and paired her it with the lecture hall network. A transcript of the class began scrolling down the screen. Zoning Mr. Stephenson out, she quickly scanned through it to see what she had missed. "Basic boring rant, complaining about how easy we have it, yelling at Trevor for being late, and it looks like he only just started intro to Galactic Trade Organizations," she read, relieved.

Sharol's chair gave a soft squeak as she leaned over to Illianya and whispered, "Same ol' shit, Mr. S started just after ripping T a new one."

Switching attention back to the front of the hall she minimized the class transcript and flipped open her note app. She instinctively pulled her left arm out to flick the switch under her the chair, swatting feverishly when the keyboard didn't slide out from the desk. A rough slap on her fingers made her recoil in surprise, a hushed squeak escaping her mouth.

Sharol gave her a quizzical look, her silvery eyes darting from Illianya's wrist to eyes and back again. Sharol's thinly lined eyebrow rose higher and disappeared under her platinum-blonde bangs. Illianya dismissed Sharol's curiosity with a wave of her other hand and mouthed 'later'. With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Sharol leaned over again and flicked the switch. Illianya thanked her with a quick, gracious smile, then focused on the lesson.

***

After another hour Mr. Stephenson concluded the topic, announcing a short break so he could refill his vito-stack. Illianya heard Sharol quietly mock gag. Hobbling towards a door at the rear of the stage, his projection rasped at them to scan through the exercises before he returned.

The image fizzled away into a rotating VA-ltd. logo as the door hissed shut behind the professor. Primary bulbs in the hall flickered on, causing the projection to become a soft ghostly outline in the harsh light.

The room erupted in conversation. Students shouted to friends at lower levels, tablets lit up with video calls and games. Few looked at the chapter exercises. Rotating in her chair, she folded her right arm over the back and scanned for Trevor.

A couple rows back she could see him at his usual spot. She was amused to see that he was sitting as far off the chair as he could, his head down, eyes glued to the tablet screen while Mirk chatted his ear off. The roar of voices made it impossible to hear, but she bet that Mirk was probably droning on about his last Rokball game.

Mirk wasn't as tall as Trevor, but he was much broader. His body was like that of a large keg but wrapped in muscle. He had on his usual synthetic cotton Letterman jacket and dark black sweatpants. She could barely see his duffel bag stacked up behind his seat. A stereotypical jock right out of most genres of movies. Except not.

Mirk caught her eye and waved back, a beaming smile stretched across his face. His skin was a dull shade of orange-red; she had asked if it was part of his gift and Mirk had told her that it had something to do with the sun of the system he grew up in.

She smiled and gave him a quick wave then made a gesture with her index finger, jutting it to her left. Mirk gave Trevor a quick nudge and said something, but Trevor seemed to shrug it off. "Probably too distracted working on the questions," she guessed. Mirk paused when Trevor didn't look up and made a move to nudge him again but her mischievous mind was faster.

She squeezed her left hand, blurting out a laugh when Trevor jumped and nearly slid out of the seat. Mirk quickly rushed to help him and pulled him back up before he fell down to the next row. Trevor met her eyes and gave her a playful scowl. Illianya cocked her head to the side and played dumb, miming 'what?'

He grinned, assured Mirk that he could sit back down by himself and plopped onto the seat heavily, making sure to keep eye contact with Illianya. She felt a small twinge of pain from her left hand, but it was much worse for Trevor. Her palm still under his testicles, the sudden impact caused them to be slammed into his groin.

His sinister expression disappeared and was replaced with sheer regret, causing her to utter a single loud bleat of laughter. It drew a couple confused looks from those nearby. Looking back at Trevor she mouthed an apology, then, using her mouth to pull back her sleeve, Illianya draw his attention to her wristband. Still wincing in pain, he nodded in acknowledgment.